The drift
by Caroliina
Summary: A story about a brother and a sister, who failed to rescue each other. Complete
1. Fairytale gone bad

"_I had a brother. A twin. He was killed in your crusades… I became him. His name was Djaq. He still lives – here, inside me._" –Djaq (1x07: Brothers in Arms)

This fic tells about Safiyya's past, how she lost her brother and changed her name. She's my favourite character in the show and I wanted to write a proper story for her. This contains violence and blood, so be warned. Thanks to Emmithar, who beta-ed this. I learned a lot, thank you once again. :D

Some of the characters belong to me, but most of the ones who are mentioned by names are property of BBC. Feedback is loved, and important to me since this is the first proper fic I post here, about Robin Hood BBC.

**THE DRIFT** – Chapter 1: **Fairytale gone bad**

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The sunset was as red as blood. Soon it would be dark. The sky around the setting sun was somehow different from what it had been before. The sun looked as though it didn't want to set. She was fighting against the blueness, which surrounded it everywhere. The blue sky became darker and darker and in the eastern horizon it was the darkest. The city of Acre would soon see how the sun drowned itself to the sea. The sun already knew what would happen after she set. She loved the people who loved her back, and she didn't want to leave those people.

The port was always alive. It didn't matter when you went there, for you would never be the only person who had decided show up. Even on the darkest night, there was always someone. That evening there were a lot of people as usual. There were Saracens, but most people had come a long way from their homeland. There were crusaders, traders, craftsmen, and sailors, as well as criminals and prostitutes.

The neighborhood was full of inns and pubs. The evening and midnight were the best time to spend near the port. After midnight, when the pubs started to close themselves, the streets filled fast with drunk people, who had literally nowhere to go.

A young woman was sitting on the end of the dock. The dock wasn't the longest one, only about fifty meters long, and there were many small, wooden boats, which were tied up to it. Their owners had too large ships to bring inside the port and they had anchored them in deeper water. The woman had taken her shoes off and laid them on the dock on her other side. She had let her aching feet sink into the cool water, keeping them there.

She loved the way the cold water made her feet feel. The loose, dark red tunic reached her ankles, a black, silky sash tying around her waist to make the loose cloth fit better to her body. She had hiked up the bottom of her tunic because she didn't want it to get wet when she had put her feet underwater. On the tunic she had a woolen shawl that was grey, black, white and other dark colors mixed, which was tied up loosely under her neck as well as a dark grey head scarf with slight, red lines on it. Under the head scarf she had a tall plait of black hair hanging down her back. Near her head it was as thick as her wrist, but it narrowed all the way down, and its end was hardly the size of her little finger. When she looked up, the end of the plait could reach the dock. She had a black cloak too, but had taken it off and laid it on the dock near her shoes.

Safiyya loved the sunset. She loved its warmth, its coolness, its peace, and its movements. She loved every time she was able to see it. It made her remember that blood wasn't the only red thing in the world. She had seen a lot of blood during her life. She had seen more blood in her young life than several men ever seen in their entire lives. And she would see a lot more. This day would be the last one where she was free. Tomorrow she would have to go back to the battlefront, where she would see more pain, and see more death.

She would go there to try to rescue young men who had given their life and health for their home. Or that's what they said. In actual fact, almost every one of them had already forgotten why they were there in the first place. Many of them wasted their last words to ask why they were there or what they had done there. Safiyya couldn't answer those questions.

Fortunately someone had finally realized that she had been healing young soldiers without any rest for several weeks, and that was how she had gotten a week off. She hadn't even known that physicians could have times of rests, but there she was anyways, spending the last hours of the best week of her life. Or that was how she felt.

"Safiyya!" she heard a call behind her. Safiyya would recognize that voice anytime. She turned around and looked.

A young English man was walking down the long dock towards Safiyya, who smiled gladly at him. The man had blonde, slightly curly hair, a small nose and beautiful, blue eyes. He hadn't shaven for couple of days. He was tall, strong and quite handsome too. When he was near enough, he started talking. "You came. I wasn't expecting you – you're leaving tomorrow morning, aren't you?"

Safiyya nodded. "I have finished my packing. Everything was ready, so I came down here. To meet you." She had a personal accent, which still made the young man smile at her.

But his smile wiped away when he sat down on the other side of Safiyya and crossed his feet. "Uh, Safiyya?"

Safiyya closed her eyes and enjoyed a small, warm wind that blew over her face. "Hm… yes?"

"Well, in fact I was wondering if…" the other started unsurely. Safiyya turned her head to him. The man looked in Safiyya's chocolate eyes. "I mean…"

"What is it, Jonathan?" Safiyya asked.

Jonathan sighed. "I'm leaving tonight. I'm going home, to England. And… I want you to come along."

Safiyya set her dark eyebrows. "But I cannot come! I… I do not…!"

"I want to marry you, Safiyya", Jonathan said with a slight shade of red across his cheeks. "I love you." Then he leaned closer and pressed his lips against Safiyya's mouth. Safiyya startled and moved immediately away. She crawled to her feet and stared at Jonathan in a horrified way.

"_What are you doing?!_" she shouted at him. She was so mad that she even forgot to speak English. Because Jonathan understood Arabic, he knew what she was shouting at him, but it didn't make him break. He stood up peacefully and looked back in Safiyya's eyes. She widened them when she saw the way the young, tall Englishman looked at her. He was almost smiling. But that smile Safiyya had never seen before. It was everything but friendly.

"I knew this. I knew you wouldn't accept", he said. "But it doesn't matter." Safiyya didn't know, what he meant, but when Jonathan took his sword from its scabbard, she gasped. She tried her own belt, but then realized she had none. She had left it to Bassam's home, because these were her best clothes and weapons didn't suit it. All she had was a small knife she always carried. She took it from the sheath, but Jonathan laughed at her. He took a step forward and made Safiyya back up too. She was now standing on the edge of the dock and behind her there was only deep water. "Don't try anything."

"What are you going to do?" Safiyya asked.

Jonathan smiled. "Give me the knife." He held out his hand and waited. "C'mon!"

Safiyya blinked her eyes, wanting to resist but she had no choice. She put her knife in Jonathan's waiting hand and crossed her arms in front of her chest, sighing deep. Jonathan put his sword back to its place in his belt. He stepped closer to Safiyya and she gasped when the blade of her own knife touched her neck. Jonathan was not the same person she had met a week before. This was not the young man, who had helped Safiyya up, when she had accidently fallen to a small stone on the street. This was far from the man who had taken her to a tour around their ship. Safiyya had never been on a real ship before and she had really enjoyed herself. She had had good time with this young crusader and for the first time of her life she felt almost like she had a friend. She had very few friends when she was a child. Now Jonathan only grinned at her and looked very satisfied for a reason Safiyya couldn't make out; she thought this situation was everything but comfortable.

"Now", Jonathan said haughtily. "Let's go, shall we, milady?"

He forced Safiyya to walk down the dock, walking behind her and keeping the knife against her back. She could do nothing but walk where he wanted her to. Soon they were off the dock and Jonathan made Safiyya walk barefoot down the street. Her cloak and shoes had been left to the end of the dock.

"Why are you doing this?" Safiyya questioned. "Why?"

Jonathan chuckled, but said nothing.

Soon they arrived where Jonathan had been taking her. Safiyya had been to that ship before, when Jonathan had shown it to her. It was a beautiful ship, whose name was Catherine. Safiyya knew nothing about ships, but she had seen very different kinds of them in the port and she really liked Catherine's appearance. It was great, but small enough to anchor herself to the dock. Now when Safiyya climbed up to the deck, she knew she wasn't going to be for a visit.

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-end of the chapter-


	2. Same blood

**THE DRIFT** – Chapter 2: **Same blood**

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The cabin was made to suit one man, because there was only one bed. Safiyya thought that Jonathan wanted to torture her by leaving her alone to the cabin, waiting and wondering, what would happen next. Of course he would come back sooner or later. But she was wrong. After Jonathan had opened the door, he pushed Safiyya to the floor and kneeled over her. Safiyya tried to resist.

"_Get off me! Please, let me go, I'm begging you!_" she cried.

Jonathan laughed. He was almost enjoying this, seeing a beautiful woman crying for his mercy. It nearly excited him. He turned Safiyya around, on her back and hit her face. Safiyya yelped quietly and closed her eyes when his hand struck her cheek. He hadn't hit her with his fist, but an open hand with that much force hurt at least as much. Safiyya let her head lie on its other side, her cheek against the carpet. Her eyes were wide open and she hardly dared to breathe. She was so afraid that some tears flowed down her face. The pain in her cheek was burning her skin. Suddenly, she got an idea. She narrowed her eyes, but didn't close them. "Jonathan, hear me. I love you too."

"What?!" Jonathan shouted. Safiyya let her eyes close.

"Please, please don't…!" she sobbed. She couldn't find the words, so she went on in Arabic. "_I was so scared, when you – kissed me and… and…!_"

Jonathan didn't need anything more. He stood up and helped Safiyya up. She covered her eyes with her hands and acted like she was still crying. Jonathan wound his strong arms around her and hugged her tight. Of course Safiyya didn't love him. But this way she could protect herself, at least for a while. Jonathan stroked her back gently. "Shh, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you, Safiyya."

Safiyya nodded slightly against his shoulder. "I know."

"Do you forgive me?"

"Yes."

He loved the way Safiyya said that word. Jonathan looked in Safiyya's wet eyes. She looked back at him and saw again the young man, who she had met a week ago. He seemed to be back, but for some reason Safiyya had a bad feeling.

"Will you come to England with me?"

Safiyya sighed. She hadn't thought that far, but she had no choice now, when she had opened her mouth. "Yes." She was going to repent this, she was sure of that.

Jonathan nodded. "Good. Though that won't change your destiny", he said and turned Safiyya roughly around. She yelped quietly when Jonathan tied her wrists together behind her back. When he was done, he opened the cabin's door again and guided Safiyya outside again.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Safiyya asked with frustrated voice when Jonathan pushed her forward, towards the staircase, which led down under the ship. "Why did you tie me up?"

Jonathan smirked. Safiyya knew that the handsome young man was gone once again. "You still don't get it, do you?" He closed the door behind them. They were now on a corridor, which ended to another door. When they walked down the corridor Safiyya knew they walked across the ship to its other side. "You're just another stupid woman."

"What do you mean?" Safiyya was now even more confused. It seemed like Jonathan changed his mind all the time.

They were now in the middle of the corridor's length, and also in the middle of the ship's width. Jonathan pulled her closer to him and made her stop that way. He kept her close to him, his breath touching her neck sensually. "Did you really believe me when I told you I loved you?"

Safiyya snorted. "Did you believe me then?"

A grin covered Jonathan's face when he opened the door on their right side. "We're going to have a very good time together, my sweet little devil." He got the finally got the door opened and forced Safiyya ahead. Jonathan left the door open and forced her downstairs. These stairs were long and quite dark too; would be, that was, if it wasn't for the open door.

They were now on the bottom of the ship and it was a lot darker and slightly colder too than it had been on the deck. Safiyya saw door grips on the walls and she thought they might be cabins. She was close.

Jonathan opened one door and Safiyya noticed that there were two bars on the window. These cabins were cells. But before she had time for noting anything else, she was lying on the floor again on her stomach after Jonathan had pushed her there. This time he didn't sit on top of her, instead slamming the door fast and locking it from the outside. After a short while the other door on top of the long staircase closed too.

There Safiyya was alone in the darkness. She tried to sit up, but couldn't, because her hands were tied together behind her. She turned to her side and that way she managed to pull herself to sit on the floor. She looked around. There was no light at all. The longest wall was solid, because it had to keep all the water outside. These cells were underwater. Safiyya moved slowly near the wall and after reaching it, she leaned her back against it. The wall was slightly concave, because of the shape of the ship. Safiyya's feet were cold, because they were still wet and she had no shoes.

"_Who's there?_" someone asked suddenly. Safiyya gasped, because the voice had come quite near her place, only couple of meters from her. She had to blink her eyes, when she saw that someone hit two stones together, making small sparks. After doing it couple of times, he managed to light a fire. He took a small piece of candle and lighted it with the small fire he had made with stones. Then he killed the fire with his hand. Safiyya smelled the smoke, but she was too busy to stare at the familiar face she saw right in front of her.

"Djaq?"

There was a small-sized young man. He had short, black hair and dark, round, brown eyes, just the same color as Safiyya's eyes. His head looked small, because he had short neck and hair, which didn't cover it either, like Safiyya's hair. The young man was wearing a dirty shirt with short sleeves and a grey vest on top of it. He had green, linen trousers and a belt, which had a small sheath of a knife in it. The sheath was empty. He was slightly thinner than Safiyya and his clothes were loose. He had almost the same features in his face as Safiyya. Except for the bruise he had in his right temple. Djaq was looking back at Safiyya with a confused look. "Safiyya?_ What are you doing here?_"

Safiyya was so happy to see her twin brother that she smiled. "_I – eh, it's quite long story_", she said. Djaq kneeled and moved closer to her.

"_Fine. Let me untie you first_", he said. Safiyya turned her back to him and Djaq untied the string which Jonathan had used to bind Safiyya's wrists together.

"_Thank you_", Safiyya said as she massaged her wrists. "Djaq, _what…?_" She didn't know, where she would start from. She had so much to ask.

"_What's happened to your face?_" Djaq wanted to know first. Safiyya touched her cheek, but took her hand away, because the skin was very sore. She gasped.

"_Oh, that_", she said and caressed the cheek with slight touches. "Jonathan…"

"Jonathan?" Djaq cut her. A slight smirk covered his face. "_Is that his name? Is he your boyfriend?_" Safiyya stared at him, when Djaq laughed.

"_It's not funny!_" Safiyya cast at him. She sighed deep. "_Never mind that now. But what about you? What's your story?_"

Djaq and Safiyya had lost their mother long time ago. They couldn't even remember her. It was just before the war started. Because their father couldn't take care of them alone, he asked his good friend, Bassam, to help him. Bassam had a great house and he liked Safiyya and Djaq.

Their father was a physician and he was enlisted almost as soon as the war had begun. After all, every physician was needed there. That was the heaviest reason for him to find a place to his two small children. Safiyya and Djaq spent their childhood with Bassam. But when they were sixteen, Djaq had to leave his home. He had to go to the battlefront, as every young man had to. Safiyya was sad, but couldn't say anything; she was only a woman after all. But she didn't have to be alone too long, because couple of days after she got a message, which was from her father. She was confused at first, because the messenger said that her father needed her on the battlefield.

That the same day, she waved goodbye to Bassam. The messenger took her to a small field hospital. There she met her father the first time in several years. In that field hospital, her father taught her everything. Most of the men didn't want Safiyya to take care of them, because she was a woman. But soon enough they, and Safiyya too, got to know that she was not the only female physician who worked on the battlefield. The law said that women couldn't even touch men, unless he was her husband.

However, the soldiers weren't the only ones who died on the front – after couple of years they had hardly half of the physicians they had had when the war had started. That was devastating, and because they had nowhere else to turn, they had to start enlisting women physicians, and anyone who could help was welcome. Safiyya's father would've probably taken Djaq rather than Safiyya there, but because Djaq was waging war on the front, he took Safiyya. At the beginning, she was very unsure. But very soon she learned how to handle the work and it didn't take a long time for her to be almost as skillful as her father. He never said it to her, but he was very proud of his daughter.

Safiyya had met Djaq a couple of times, when he had been wounded himself, or the times he was bringing his wounded comrades to the hospital. He told Safiyya about the other women physicians, and how that she was a lot better than they were. It had lifted her spirits for a time. But then Safiyya's father was killed. It had been difficult to handle, but Safiyya had no time for sorrow. More and more wounded young men were brought to her and she had her hands busy all the time.

And that was how she had got her week off.

"_Well_", Djaq started. "_I didn't watch my back. Our messenger had got himself killed a day before and I had to bring the message to the town. But when I was on my way back, your… _Jonathan_ caught me._" The way he said Jonathan's name made Safiyya feel a bit better. "_He's a very nice young man, I'd say, but if he's going to be my brother-in-law…!_"

It was Safiyya's turn to laugh, though her laughter was very ironic. Djaq changed the topic.

"_But_ Safiyya, _now when there's two of us_", he said. "_We can handle the guard when he comes!_"

"_Could we escape?_" Safiyya became interested.

"_Yes!_" Djaq said and nodded, like he had been trying to say that very thing to his sister for a long time. "_I tried once by myself, but I failed, because he was too big!_" He touched the violet bruise in his temple.

"_How long have you been here, anyway?_" Safiyya asked him.

"_Couple of days. And I have to say that I could almost eat something._"

Safiyya chuckled. "_So, what's the plan?_"

Djaq was about to answer something, when the door on the end of the dark corridor opened. He grabbed the candle and blew the light off. A man walked down the corridor, but it wasn't Jonathan. When he had passed their cell, Safiyya got a fine idea.

"Djaq! _Put your hands on me!_" she whispered to Djaq, who gaped at her.

"_W-what?!_"

"_Hurry!_" Safiyya hissed and attacked her brother. She landed on top of him, but rolled over so that Djaq was lying on her. Djaq thought that her sister had probably lost her mind. Safiyya started to scream. "Help! Somebody please help me!"

Djaq wasn't able to move away, because Safiyya was holding his wrists too tightly. She looked at her brother with a furious gaze, which told him to act along.

Djaq realized what Safiyya was getting at. He pressed Safiyya harder against the floor and shouted harshly. "_Shut up or I'll kill you!_" Safiyya cried louder.

"What's going on there?!" the man's voice came from the corridor. He looked inside through the bars and saw Djaq kneeling on top of Safiyya. Djaq put his hands on Safiyya's neck and acted like he was trying to choke her. Safiyya held her breath like she couldn't breathe at all.

"Help me, please…! He's gone mad…!" she cried hoarsely and let her voice fade away.

The man took a key and opened the door quickly. He ran inside the cell, about to grab his sword, but when he saw how small Djaq was, the man assumed that he could handle him without any weapons. This wasn't the first time this young Saracen caused trouble for himself. Safiyya had closed her eyes and let go of Djaq's wrists. Djaq's eyes narrowed. He couldn't see behind him, but battle had taught him what to do when the enemy was coming from behind.

This one didn't even have a sharp weapon. Djaq knew this because he would've heard the scraping of metal against metal when the sword was taken out of the sheath. This would make the pair of them more easily matched; giving Djaq a chance to win the fight even though he himself was unarmed.

When the guard was about to grab him and pull him off, Djaq backed up and dodged the hand, throwing the other man off balance. The second that the guard needed to get his balance again was enough for Djaq to aim a heartless thrust of his elbow to his side, right under the lowest rib. The guard froze and Djaq smirked when the man fell on the floor and rolled onto his back. Djaq jumped up and held his breath when kicking the groaning man. Djaq hit the guard in the face to make sure he was unconscious.

Safiyya had opened her eyes to watch the whole act, and when she was sure there was nothing to worry about climbed on her feet. Djaq rubbed his head, fingers moving under his black hair. Safiyya knew he had a scar there. She had sewn it up by her own hands. She remembered that horrible day's night when she had been almost sure that this time she had truly lost her brother. But after a pair of sweaty, silent days Djaq had walked out of the field hospital with a scarf covering his pale head. Safiyya had had to cut all his hair out of her way then, but luckily it had grown back in a few months. In fact, that was the last time they had seen each other before now.

Safiyya took the sword from the guard's belt and smirked at her brother. "_You're the worst actor I've ever met_", she said. Djaq snorted

"_Let's go_", he said and rushed into the corridor. Safiyya followed him.

When they reached the deck of the ship, Djaq covered his eyes and stopped suddenly. He couldn't see anything, having been so many days in dark. He stopped so suddenly that Safiyya almost fell. She grabbed the wall and managed to stay on her feet. "_Don't stop there! Give me your hand!_" she ordered and grabbed Djaq's arm. She started to guide Djaq to the small bridge between the deck and the dock.

"Stop right where you are!" Safiyya heard someone shouting behind her. She bit her teeth together. She was not going to be stopped this time. She turned around, letting Djaq go and bringing up the sword she was still holding in her hand.

She saw Jonathan. He was standing above her; there were a couple of stairs between them. Djaq was blinking his eyes and trying to see what was going on. Safiyya wasn't blind anymore and she saw very clearly how Jonathan grinned at her. That grin made her feel sick. Jonathan shook his head slowly.

"Safiyya, Safiyya… Why do you have to make it so hard?" he asked and took his own sword.

Safiyya narrowed her eyes. "_Stay behind me!_" she told Djaq, who had nothing against her.

Jonathan dashed forward, towards Safiyya, but Safiyya defended herself with her sword and struck Jonathan back, but he was prepared and dodged. He didn't want to seriously hurt Safiyya, so he knocked her hand aside with the blade and made a small gash to her hand. Safiyya gasped and the sword fell on the floor when she had to let it go. Jonathan never stopped grinning.

"Oh, sorry, my darling", he said to Safiyya and bent down to pick her sword up. But Djaq was faster than him. He pulled Safiyya behind him and grabbed the sword from the floor.

"_Run!_" he shouted and attacked Jonathan with the sword. Djaq was a lot better at fencing than Safiyya – he was a soldier. Safiyya only sewed up wounds made by swords. Djaq's movements were a lot more fluid and faster. Even when his eyes still weren't completely used to the brightness, he was very nimble.

But Jonathan was a soldier himself, and he made a good opponent for Djaq. Djaq forced Jonathan back up to the deck and he already thought he would win the fight.

"You! Drop the weapon!" someone shouted from behind Djaq's back. Djaq didn't understand English and went on with his sword, until Jonathan spoke up.

"_He's talking to you!_" he yelled at him in Arabic. Djaq stopped, but didn't let the sword fall. Jonathan panted slightly. "_Are you deaf?! Drop the weapon, now!_"

"Djaq", Safiyya said quietly. "_Drop it._"

Djaq looked over his shoulder and saw another young crusader, who was holding Safiyya against his chest from behind and keeping his knife against her neck, right under her jaw. Djaq sighed disappointedly, raised his sword and let it fall to the floor. Jonathan stepped closer to him, but Djaq didn't step backwards. He stood there, weight on his both feet and his short spine straight, like a real soldier would stand when facing his enemy.

"John, what is this woman doing here?" the man, who was holding Safiyya, asked Jonathan. "Didn't we agree that…?"

"I'm going to find her some use back home, believe me", Jonathan said, smirking at his mate, who laughed.

"Oh, I see", he said. He looked Safiyya. "He's a good man, don't be afraid, sweetheart."

"_Get off me_", Safiyya hissed between her teeth, but the man only grinned more. Why were all the men the same?

Djaq sighed again and shook his head. He turned his head and raised his gaze to the setting sun in the west. He hadn't seen the sun for a long time and now when he finally saw it, it was drowning itself in the sea. Its last rays were surrounding it, trying to defend it from the blue, starry sky. They were waging a war, which was already lost. The rays were like small ripples in the water. Even when the sun wasn't moving almost at all, the rays circulated it. The water gave birth to them and after they had gone around the sun, they joined back to the water, making the water glitter in white, yellow, red and black.

In Djaq's eyes the rays were almost like swimming around the horizon. Why couldn't they let the sun die? Why couldn't they just leave it be? Djaq didn't know. He turned forward, looked down and let Jonathan guide him back downstairs, where the cells were.

"What about this fair lady?" the young man asked Jonathan, when Djaq and Jonathan were passing them.

"Oh, take her to my cabin and tie her up", Jonathan told him. Safiyya sighed as deep as she could when the blade was against her neck. She wanted to spit at Jonathan, but decided not to, and kept her mouth shut. She didn't need any more trouble.

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-end of the chapter-


	3. Under pressure

**THE DRIFT** – Chapter 3: **Under pressure**

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The following night was the worst Safiyya could ever imagine, but it wasn't exactly what she had been waiting for. She had thought that Jonathan would probably rape her, but no. Everything else.

Safiyya was pushed again on the floor of the same cabin which Jonathan had taken her earlier to tie her up. Safiyya tried to resist, when the young crusader took her wrists and forced her against one of the pillars of the bed. There was a pillar in each corner and they reached from the floor to the ceiling. The young man took her hands and tied her wrists together again, so that the pillar stayed between her arms. This time her hands were in front of her though, and it was easier to her to move them.

"You should be thankful to John", the young man said after he had got the band done. "He has taught you English. It's a good skill."

Safiyya gazed him very dangerously. "_You'll pay for this, in the name of Allah!_" she whispered, her eyes glowing for fury under her eyebrows. She did that on purpose, trying to look as frightening and abnormal as she possibly could.

The young man only laughed and walked outside. He closed the door behind him and left Safiyya alone.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there in her own company on the carpet of the cabin. There were no windows in the cabin, but she knew the ship had sailed from the dock. The ship had left Acre. The ship was sailing further and further from her home. She thought about Bassam, who surely was worried about her by now. Not to mention the medical men, who were waiting for her to arrive in the morning back to the field hospital. They would be very confused when finding out that she was not coming back. But right now she was the most worried about Djaq and herself. Especially herself.

When Jonathan finally came to the cabin, Safiyya realized that she was not going to sleep that night. He stepped inside the cabin and closed the door behind him, never taking his eyes off her. Safiyya was sitting on the carpet, her hands tied to the pillar, trying to hide her bare legs under the hem of her tunic.

For a moment Jonathan did nothing but look at her. He looked at the exotic and breathtakingly beautiful woman who was lying helplessly in front of him. The candle, which was giving the light to the room, had burned itself down almost completely and it wouldn't last for very much longer. Safiyya blinked her eyes. This was it now. There was no return.

Jonathan knelt on the carpet and struck Safiyya in her cheek, the same cheek he had hit her earlier. She blinked her eyes couple of times, a surprised look in her face. This time she was sure she hadn't said or done anything that could've made Jonathan angry. She didn't know yet that this was hardly the start. Jonathan stood up and let Safiyya watch, when he took a tall wooden stick in his hand.

Safiyya had wondered why that stick was needed, when Jonathan raised it and hit her head with it. Safiyya made a quiet cry, but didn't have time for breathe before another strike, which hit her neck, right on her shoulder. The stick rose again, ready to strike.

Blood was rushing widely inside Jonathan's veins. He had missed this feeling. He had missed this – having the upper hand. Keeping someone down under his pressure. All the vile feelings, hatred, anger, fury, everything was running wild. He set them free. He had kept them inside for way too long.

He started to hit Safiyya with the stick. He didn't aim it directly anywhere; to him it was enough to feel how the bones under her skin stopped the stick, and to hear the voices she made and see the pain on her face. Every strike, every thrust, every sound this woman made him feel stronger. The feeling grew stronger and stronger. His heart beat faster and every time the stick rose, he felt how it became charged with his feelings. And when he struck, those feelings became free.

Safiyya's body shook with every blow the stick made to her skin. She felt like her whole body was in flames. She couldn't move her limbs. Confusion had blinded her mind. She didn't understand anything anymore. Nothing made sense. She didn't know why she was suffering; she didn't know why she wasn't defending herself.

Her feet were cold, her face hot. Blood was pounding in her cheekbones, in her shoulders, in the side of her neck, everywhere. After a few strikes to her head she started to feel dizzy and it was getting difficult to keep her eyes open. She let her head hang on its side and didn't even try to raise it. Soon it her body grew numb and she didn't feel anything.

She could tell where the stick hit, but all of those places were already so sore that the pain broke some kind of limit numbing her senses. She felt like her body wouldn't stay in one piece for a long time. Safiyya started to hope that each thrust would be the last one. Blood flowed down her face. It came from her nose, the taste of iron in her mouth. Couple of drops of her blood dripped on the carpet from her mouth. Her eyes were almost closed, but she managed to keep them open.

Jonathan was panting. He hadn't felt this good for ages. He felt almost like a new person. He hadn't even known that he could ever feel this good. He looked at the woman, who was breathing heavily on the carpet. The woman was totally under his mercy. He was keeping her under his control. She could do nothing, absolutely nothing. The wooden stick fell on the floor from his hand and rolled under his bed.

It took couple of moments from Safiyya to realize that Jonathan had really stopped hitting her. Somewhere inside her sore head she realized it. Though it didn't feel like he had. Safiyya felt every place the stick had hit her body. She still felt every single thrust, every single strike in her skin, inside her bones. When she tried to open her eyes, she saw nothing but dark mess. Her ears were plugged and her head felt heavy, as it was made of iron. She closed her eyes and passed out.

* * *

Djaq couldn't sleep. He tried not to think, what was happening to his twin sister right at the moment. He couldn't even light his candle, because Jonathan had tied his hands together behind his back once again. Djaq couldn't imagine how a clever woman like Safiyya could've been cheated by him.

He was perhaps the most horrible man Djaq had ever met, even to be a crusader. Djaq felt worthless sitting in the darkness. He was a soldier and should've died in a battle, on the side his mates, defending his home. But now he was a prisoner on his way to England. It felt so ironic.

Djaq found a rock on the floor. He gasped. That would be the way to escape. He grabbed the stone on his hand and started to rub it against the rope, which was keeping his hands tightly bound.

* * *

When Safiyya woke up, she had no idea how long she had slept. She wasn't even sure if she had been sleeping or unconsciousness. She pressed her eyes tightly closed and opened them slowly. As soon as she remembered where she were, all the pain came in one thrust – it felt almost like Jonathan would've hit her one more time. She raised her head and sighed deep. Her mind was so empty that she didn't even know what to think first. Then she remembered whose cabin this was.

Jonathan's.

Sweet, handsome, beautiful Jonathan.

A smile found its way to her face and it hurt slightly in her cheek muscles. Suddenly, her head filled with Jonathan's face, which was grinning evilly and holding a wooden stick, ready to strike. Safiyya wanted to cry, but for some reason, her tears never came. She had been terribly afraid in the night before, but now she couldn't cry. There was only one feeling inside her head.

It was fury.

Safiyya stood up and tried to walk, but couldn't because her wrists were tied together around the pillar of the bed. She tried to tug her arms, but the rope didn't give way. She bit her teeth together and tried to pull at the bonds, but the strap didn't break. She fell on her knees on the carpet. Her hands and her chin were trembling. Her eyes were wide and dry, because she hadn't blinked them, but some hot tears flowed down her bruised cheeks anyway. She was no woman. She was no human. She was nothing. She was a tortured animal in a cage and there was no way to get out. She opened her mouth and cried louder than anyone was able to.

When she inhaled again, she felt a lot better. She almost smiled. This, she thought, this was enough. She had got enough. She wasn't going to stand more of this.

But she was wrong again.

* * *

-end of the chapter-


	4. A chance

Don't worry, Safiyya's not dead yet. I wouldn't kill my favourite character! No, no. This is not even nearly finished. Pardon me if I have made someone depressed. This will end well, I assure you. :D

And sorry, I should've updated yesterday. I had made myself a gorgeous shedule of publishing these chapters, but then I had counted the dates wrong. My maths is 9, which is the second best mark. (No wonder why it's not the best...)

**THE DRIFT** – Chapter 4: **A chance**

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Several days went by. Safiyya simply couldn't understand what Jonathan's problem was. Every evening, when he came to his cabin to sleep, he first had to hit Safiyya with something. He didn't always use the wooden stick – sometimes he only punched her with his fist, and one night he used the grip of his knife.

Downstairs, in the cell, Djaq hadn't slept for a few nights or days. He had done nothing but rubbed the stone against his wrists, with no pause. He knew he had to get rid of the rope. That was the only way to get anywhere at all. It was late night, when he finally felt the rope snap in two. He stopped rubbing, let the stone fall on the floor and sighed deep. He breathed deeply a couple of times. Then his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

He didn't know, how long he slept, but he startled awake suddenly and rubbed his face. He knelt on the floor and started to seek the stone, which he needed to make fire. He found them in the corner. There was his candle too. His hands trembled slightly when he thrust the stones together to make sparks. The small flame came and he lighted the candle. The light dazzled him first, but after a short while his eyes got used to it.

What next? His hands were free now, but what he could do? He had no knife, because when Jonathan caught him, he took all his weapons away. He couldn't open the lock of the door. Or could he?

He put the candle on the floor and pulled off his vest. There were many small pockets here and there. It was his father's old jacket, only sleeves were cut off. He touched the pockets and realized that there was a small weight inside one of them. How could he be that stupid? Why didn't he think about the pockets in the first place? Like he hadn't had time enough…he emptied the pocket to the floor in front of him, but his delight was immediately gone.

He was very disappointed, because all there was was a small, black pendant, which seemed to be some kind of little bottle. He took it in his hand and shook it. Safiyya probably knew how to use the liquid inside it, but he didn't.

Then Djaq got another idea. He took the candle and started to search the floor around him. There had to be something. He found a very small piece of iron string, but it was far too thin. He left the candle on the floor again and searched his clothes next. In the sheath of his knife there was nothing but thick leather. The small pocket on his belt contained only a round piece of glass – he could do amazing tricks with it and only he knew how to use it. But right now it had no use. He stopped and blinked his eyes couple of times. This couldn't be possible. He really hadn't had anything which could help him get out of there.

No. Djaq shook his head. He wouldn't give up this easily. He looked around the cell once more. His gaze circled the room he was in and stopped on the window in the door. Without the two bars it would be big enough for him to get through.

Djaq stood and walked to the door. He touched the bars with his hands. They were metal, but the door was wooden. It was different wood from the ship's framework and seemed also slightly softer. He looked how the bars had been set inside the wood. He tried to sway them and they moved only a little. If he had his knife, it would be easy to carve the wood away and remove the bars. That was probably why the knife had been taken from him.

But what if…

He grabbed the candle on the floor and put it under the window frame, so that the flame touched the wood. He gasped, when he saw how the wood blackened. He held the candle there and kept it a little longer there. The wood never set on fire, but it went black. When Djaq scratched the wood with his nail, the blackened part left and there became a small dimple on the surface. Djaq's eyes widened slightly and he rushed to the wall to grab the stone he had used when ripping his bonds off. His nails would not do enough damage to the surface of the wood.

The wood gave in faster than he had imagined. It was moist so it didn't burn easy, but Djaq was solid strength. Ash fell on the floor. Djaq hit the wood couple of times with his stone, after he had made it more fragile with the candle. Some bigger parts dropped down and Djaq started to strike harder. When he finally had gouged all the wood away around the top part of the other metal bar, he stepped away and wetted his lips.

He couldn't rest long, because the candle wasn't going to last forever. He started to burn the wood on top of the bar, so that it would be possible to raise it in its place. It was difficult, because the bar was in his way and he was slightly too short. He set the candle and the stone on the frame and tried to move the metal bar again. It moved more now than it had earlier, but it still didn't separate.

Djaq yanked, tugged and rolled the bar, but it was not going to break. A drop of sweat flowed down his cheek and he hit the stone once more against the wood. That did it. He had accidently dug a small hole inside the wood and now when he struck the wood, which seemed to be untouched, it gave way under the blow. The wood was burnt through, only the surface was still clean. It surprised Djaq, but when he looked at his handwork, a smile covered his face. He almost laughed, when he tugged the metal bar off its place and held it in his hand. It was quite heavy.

It took another half an hour to remove the other bar off the window. The window was quite high, but Djaq was not going to let that stop him anymore. He sighed deeply and calmed himself down before going. He even remembered to blow out the candle. He jumped and threaded his upper body through the frames. It was very uncomfortable, but he pulled himself to the other side of the door by force. When his hips were on the other side, he fell to the floor and twisted his knees somehow, but managed to stand up anyway.

He blinked his eyes and waited a while for them to get used to the darkness. He saw at first nothing, but then he started to recognize the space. He didn't see them very well, but he knew where the stairs were. He touched the wall with his hand when he walked down the dark corridor.

The air smelled salty and humid. He felt how the ship swung slowly as the waves embraced it. Djaq gasped slightly, when he felt a quiet rumbling sound somewhere. He wasn't afraid of darkness, he wasn't afraid of the sea. But the instability of the ship, cool humid air and the voices of the sea made him a bit concerned. He was worried also, because he was totally unarmed, and if someone came, he would be probably dead.

That was one of the things that confused him. Why had these crusaders made him their prisoner? Usually they killed everyone they set their eyes on. Why didn't he and Safiyya get killed like thousands of Saracens before them? Why did these Englishmen need them alive? Safiyya had a clear future as Jonathan's wife, never mind how much she was going to hate it. But what about Djaq? What was his destination? Why was he even on this ship?

Djaq climbed the long stairs up with very unsure steps, because he could barely see a thing. The door was on the top of the stairs and he found the door grip, but when he pulled it down, the door didn't open. It was locked from the outside. Djaq bit his teeth together. "_Please…! C'mon now…!_" he whispered half-aloud, but the door stayed locked. Djaq steppedbackwards and growled like an angry dog. But no, he was simply not going to give up this easily.

* * *

Safiyya touched her nose. She had been afraid that it was broken, but seemed like it wasn't after all. Her head, however, felt like one, big bump that was full of water. It was probably slightly swollen. Her front hair had escaped from the plait and she tried to pull it under her head scarf.

Women were supposed to hide their hair under the scarf, and a lot of men did that also, because the sun drew their strong hair. That was probably why the English had so thin hair – they seldom had anything to cover it.

Safiyya knew, how terrible she must've looked, because she felt every single one of her bruises. She had tried to clean the dried blood from her skin with her spit, and she thought she had wiped it all, but couldn't be sure. There was a mirror on the wall, but it was too far from Safiyya and she couldn't see it.

Jonathan had fed her – yes, she really felt like a small, helpless animal. She hardly remembered, who she had been before she was subjected to this. During those nights, when her bruises were too painful to let her sleep, Safiyya thought that someday she would get her revenge. Someday she would pay back.

Somewhere there had to be someone who would measure which people had suffered enough and which hadn't. Who had too much to bear and who had gotten away too easily. But there wasn't. In her heart she knew that there would never be such justice.

Jonathan had been sitting on the bed, just a meter or two from Safiyya. He had stayed quiet for a long time and stared straight down at the floor between his feet. He had laid his elbows on his knees and joined his fingertips together. He had sat there already a long while and Safiyya wasn't quite sure, what was coming. She had learned that this young man was full of surprises.

And, as Safiyya had guessed, Jonathan stood up and walked to the desk, which was placed on the opposite wall from the bed. Safiyya kept her desperate eyes on him. It was about to begin again.

She let out a nervous sigh and pressed her eyes closed. She didn't need to look at Jonathan, because she knew his every move. She heard how he picked the good, old wooden stick from the desk. Now he turned around to look at her. Safiyya bit her teeth together and opened her eyes. Jonathan's shadow fell on her. The stick rose slowly. Safiyya followed it with her wide eyes.

* * *

"_C'mon… Don't be ridiculous, open up now!_"

Djaq would have never believed that he was talking to a door. He had found a good piece of iron string from the floor of the corridor and was now trying to pick the lock with it. The lock already had made some encouraging voices and clicks, but every time Djaq tried to open the door, it stayed closed. He was getting tired.

The iron string was getting worn too. It couldn't take too much twisting and turning around, and when it broke the other end stayed inside the lock, and was too deep to pull out. Djaq set his eyebrows and glanced at the small piece of string he had left in his hand. It was almost five centimeters long – the other end, which was inside the lock, had the same length. Djaq tried the door grip, but now it didn't even move anymore. He tried to pull it harder, but no result. He tried to push the door and growled angrily, but the door was not going to let him through.

Djaq turned around. This way he was going nowhere. There had to be another way out. He went the stairs down and started searching around the corridor. The first one from his own cell door was a wooden door without a bar window. It probably was not a cell at all. He decided to study that door later and went forward, to another door. It was a cell for sure, because the door was locked and through the window Djaq saw that there were some people inside. He was a bit too short once again to see very well and the darkness blinded him too.

"_Hello? Are you all right there?_" he shouted inside and jumped to see better. He managed to stand on his tiptoes long enough to make out that there was three men, who had chains in their wrists and ankles and the wrists' chains came from the ceiling to keep the people standing. They looked dead, but they could've been only asleep of unconscious.

They didn't answer anything to Djaq, so he moved on to another cell. He stood again in his tiptoes and looked inside through the bars. He heard voices there. It sounded like someone, who was tied up and who had a plug in his mouth.

"_Wait, is someone there?_" he asked. More angry mumbling. Djaq shook his head. "_I'm sorry, I can't set you free. I don't have the key. But when I get one, I'll be back._" To be exact, he hadn't had time to lose. But he didn't say that.

All the other cells were empty or contained more people that were asleep or perhaps dead. Djaq sighed. At least someone was alive with him. It made him a bit calmer, but he still had to find a way out. He had to help Safiyya, wherever she was.

If she was dead by now, Djaq would blame himself of course. But he had to know. He walked to the wooden door with no window that was right next to his own cell's door. He tried the handle and when it didn't open, he took the iron string he had still left and stringed it inside the lock. He sighed deep couple of times. He had to relax a bit, otherwise this would never work. He had picked a lot of locks before this and he knew how to do it.

This door had a lot simpler lock. It didn't take long time from Djaq to get it unlocked. He pulled the iron string off and cried silently in satisfaction when he opened the door. He stepped into the darkness, but fell immediately, because the spiral staircase started right from the threshold.

It led downwards and Djaq ended up doing several somersaults down the stairs. Luckily the stairs weren't long and he landed soon on his chest on the floor. He moaned quietly and crawled to his feet.

* * *

Safiyya shook her head like a wet dog. There was a new bleeding bruise behind her ear and some red drops flew around her. She blinked her eyes and licked her lips fast. She raised her eyes up to Jonathan. Her eyes were full of fury.

Jonathan had paused hitting her and was staring back at her. Safiyya's chest rose and set when she breathed. She forced her sore cheek muscles to a skew position, which was supposed to look like a smile, but was far from it.

"If you hit me one single time more", she said quietly, but very venomously and clearly. "I swear I will kill you."

Jonathan raised the stick again. Safiyya kept the horrible smile in her face, but closed her eyes.

* * *

-end of the chapter-

Reviews are still very loved...


	5. The limit breaks

**THE DRIFT** – Chapter 5: **The limit breaks**

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Djaq found out where he was - he was on the bottom of the ship. The floor here was unstable and it sloped towards the central wood of the framework so it wasn't even level. It was difficult to walk in the darkness when he couldn't see any of the rails or tracks that were everywhere on the floor. He had nothing to grab a hold of when he tripped. His knees hurt the second time, but he couldn't let that stop him, so he climbed up. Having nowhere else to go he went deeper inside.

He heard now all the voices of the sea even clearer. He could almost feel the strong, irresistible power, which was keeping the ship tightly in its grip. There was a track on the sloped floor and Djaq decided to follow it. That way he would easily find his way back to the staircase when his search below was complete. Djaq's steps echoed in the large space he was in. He was sure there was another way up to the lower deck. There had to be.

After walking forward slowly for a while, he hit his head against something. He stopped and then crouched. He reached out with his hands and realized that he had walked all the way to the bow. The ceiling was touching his head. He ran his fingers against the top. There had to be a hatch somewhere. Djaq froze for a moment in his place and sighed deep. He hadn't a chance lately, but now it felt like a right moment. He knelt down, closed his eyes, and set his head down so that his chin touched his chest. Then he prayed.

It was a fast prayer, because Djaq really didn't want to waste any time. Who knew what Safiyya was being made to do right at the moment? But he felt like he needed some luck and help from someone, who knew where the hatch would be, if there was one. He almost cried out, when he felt the ceiling again and found it.

There was an area about one square meter, which had very clear frames. Djaq laughed aloud when he pushed the hatch open – someone must've forgotten to lock it. He climbed up and closed the hatch. He thanked Allah quickly and then started to search around in the new darkness he had entered.

The space was a lot smaller and tighter. It was slightly warmer too. Djaq tried to stand up, but couldn't, because the ceiling hit his head when he was kneeling. He sat down for a moment. He surely was near the bow of the ship – he felt clearly, how it rose and set, rose and set, time after time. It was like someone breathing heavily. It was almost like the ship was sailing on top of someone's chest. Djaq chuckled to the image in his mind. He looked around and saw some interesting lines on the floor, which were couple of meters ahead. He started to crawl towards them, following again one board of the floor to keep his way direct. He came to the lines and looked on his other side.

Djaq had crawled from behind a wall and was now facing another wall with many thin, bright, vertical lines. The light came from the other side of the wall and between the boards of the wall, casting stripes against his skin. For a moment he just sat there, on the striped floor, a smile on his face. He crawled towards the wall and found fast the small door grip. He opened the square door and looked suspiciously out.

Couple of stairs divided the small shutter from the floor and that was good, because now when Djaq climbed out of the striped darkness, he was able to stand on his feet again. The room he had entered looked some kind of storage or warehouse. There was a single hatch above, which gave light, a ladder leading up to it. Djaq saw different kinds of ropes and other equipment, which were used onboard. He didn't know all of their purposes, because he had very little experience about sailing. Djaq crossed the floor with fast steps, pushed the last hatch open and climbed up to the deck.

* * *

The war had done it to Jonathan. He knew it had to be the war. He had been told that war made heroes. But it made something more. It made men. When he had gone to the Holy Land, he hadn't even known where it was. He had hardly known why people fought there. But they did fight, and that was enough to know.

When Jonathan was a boy, he didn't fight any more than anyone else did – quite seldom actually. He always tried to solve things without any fighting or violence. Now he knew how stupid he had been. In the battlefield he had felt like he faced his whole, damned life. He could almost see familiar faces instead of the Saracens he killed. He had liked it. No, he had enjoyed it. It felt like he was killing his own, desperate past, and creating a future.

Everything he had tried to avoid back home, he did there, in the fight.

Now he felt like he was in the battle again. This woman was his battle. He was going to win it. But he knew that when the battle was won, his good mood wouldn't last long. It never had. In the Holy Land they had just gone where they were told to go, they fought there until they won, and then it was over. Jonathan didn't want to lose this battle, but he didn't want to win it either. He didn't want it to stop at all.

But he knew that if he hit too much, the battle would die. That wouldn't be fun anymore, would it?

Tonight, Safiyya was feeling different. She was feeling stronger. She was aware, that this night would change everything. She didn't know how, but she had a feeling, which told her that tomorrow things would be different. Every single thrust was too much. She felt her heartbeat inside her spine and every beat sent more boiling blood in her brains. The blood wanted release. The veins felt too small for it.

"Safiyya!"

Safiyya knew whose voice it was and tried to shout something back, but her voice never came up. She only rested her sore head against the bed's side; Jonathan had stopped his battle and turned around.

Someone was standing on the threshold. Jonathan recognized him – the young Saracen, whom he had taken to the ship couple of days before they left Acre. The same young man had tried to run away with Safiyya just the evening they were leaving. He was standing right outside, in the dark corridor, his feet slightly apart and his whole demeanor being very vigorous.

He was quite short after all, and needed every inch of his small height. He had the same chocolate eyes as Safiyya. His face wasn't clean, but it wasn't bruised either. He was at gazing Jonathan from under his dark eyebrows and his small chest and shoulders moving with every breath he made.

Djaq saw what Jonathan was holding. A wooden stick with some blood on one end. Safiyya's blood. Djaq touched his belt, but realized too late that he still had no weapons at all. He had opened the lock of the door easily with the iron string he had, but he hadn't thought what there would be behind the door. It had just felt like the lock he was supposed to pick next. Now he wasn't so sure anymore. He could've sought a weapon for himself first, just in case. But no, he had taken the iron string and started to open the door without further thinking.

Safiyya opened her eyes. She didn't like this silence. Why was Jonathan standing like that, his back facing her? Why was the door open? Why was Djaq standing on the door…? Safiyya gasped. "Djaq!" she shouted to her brother. "_Run! Get out!_"

"_No, I won't!_" Djaq cried back. He knew now, what Safiyya had had to go through. And he was not going to let it continue. His sister, his brave, intelligent, smart, generous sister, being abused this way. One of the finest physicians on earth, being captured and tortured like this, like an animal. Djaq wetted his lips and gazed at Jonathan with a furious look in his eyes. This time he was not escaping. But that didn't mean he wouldn't fight back.

When Jonathan's wooden bar was about to strike, Djaq dodged quickly. While Jonathan was off-balanced, Djaq grabbed the wood in his hand yanked it toward himself. It was an easy and simple move and he had used it thousands of times in the battle. At the same time when Djaq had grabbed the stick, his hand had been put on top of Jonathan's; that was why Jonathan's grip from the stick didn't break immediately.

Djaq pulled the body closer to himself and gave him a harsh kick in his stomach. All of this happened in few seconds and Jonathan groaned, falling onto the floor unable to breathe. Djaq stepped over him, his face taunt and veins pounding beneath his neck. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed deep.

"_Don't you tell me what to do_", he said sternly. He opened his eyes and looked at Safiyya, who looked back. "_You're not staying here._"

She blinked and turned her head to the desk. "_There must be a knife inside those drawers._"

Djaq kneeled on the floor and started to pull the drawers open. He didn't need to open a lot of them before he found his own knife there. Safiyya kept her eyes on Jonathan, who was about to rise. Djaq had hit him quite sharply, but he hadn't passed out.

Safiyya encouraged her brother to hurry. As soon as Djaq had found his own knife, he rushed to her side. Safiyya moved so that the post was between the two of them, allowing Djaq the room to cut the rope. But Djaq hesitated, taking his time since he did not want to harm Safiyya in the process. Jonathan had made it back to his feet, picking up the wooden stick from the floor again. As soon as the ropes fell on the floor, the stick was already on its way down, aimed straight to Djaq's head. It hit hard from behind.

Safiyya saw Djaq's face when it hit. His eyes widened for a half of a second before they rolled up in his head, his eyes closing. He made a quiet sound, which wasn't a cry, more like a confused, almost soundless groan. He had been kneeling, and when his legs gave way he fell on his other side on the carpet. Safiyya stared at him. The knife stayed in his fist tightly, but his face looked peaceful, like he was only sleeping. But from his black, silky hair there was a wet spot. His blood didn't show until it reached the carpet, coloring it black. His blood was black like ink. Safiyya gasped and forgot to blink her eyes.

But Jonathan wasn't finished. A wide grin covered his face as he raised his arm and let his emotions crush against the small creature at his feet. He struck this small Saracen boy time after time, hitting the same spot. He didn't know, why he hadn't thought about this in the first place. He enjoyed so much that he even heard himself laughing aloud in between the thrusts. It felt a lot better than hitting Safiyya.

At first, Safiyya was totally unable to move or think. But then she realized what was going on. Her eyes left Djaq's and she turned to Jonathan, whose grinning face made her insides burn with fury. She heard him laugh, and those quick breaths were fuel to her fire. With too much blood in her veins and her heart beating too fast to be healthy, she grabbed the knife from Djaq's hand and slashed the air with it. The sharp knife connected with Jonathan's hand as he struck again, the blade driving into flesh and leaving behind a deep and bleeding gash. The wooden stick fell on the floor once again.

Jonathan noticed Safiyya then, seeing that she was no longer tied up. He glanced at his wound and covered it with his other hand. Safiyya had broken a main artery and it bled a lot. The blood dripped from his fingertips and soon it started to pour with no drops at all. This could be Safiyya's last chance. She was faster than Jonathan and grabbed the wooden stick in her hand and kept it pointing towards Jonathan. She gazed at him in the eye and stepped up, on his bed. Jonathan gazed back at her, but he wasn't grinning anymore. Safiyya breathed deep.

"_You – will – __**never**__ – hit me again_", she said clearly and slowly. Jonathan chuckled.

"Safiyya, please. Behave yourself."

"_I will_", Safiyya said and shook her head. She shouted loudly, like she had heard real soldiers do in the battle. She let her all pain and suffering go, and aimed the hit directly to Jonathan's head. She didn't hold herself anymore. She had nothing to hold on. Jonathan fell backwards, against his own chair and desk, but Safiyya only followed. She continued to strike him, each mark landing on his head.

After every blow, more blood poured from his head. Jonathan's face was covered with it and his head fell back against the desk, but even then Safiyya didn't stop. Safiyya didn't know what had come over her. It was not a good feeling. She felt terrible and tears were flowing down her cheeks the entire time. But for some reason she couldn't stop. She gave some extra force to her strikes by shouting in a language she didn't even know herself. It was a language which no one understood. There were no words, just bad feeling showing themselves in words.

It seemed like forever before she finally couldn't strike anymore. Her arms were too tired. She was crying and sobbing to the point that it was difficult to even breathe. Safiyya fell on her knees and let the stick go. The other end was covered with new blood now. Safiyya's sobs were the only thing that broke the silence in the cabin. She was the only thing that was still moving. She was the only thing still alive. She gasped suddenly and turned her head to Djaq. Her lips made the word, but there was nothing to be heard.

"Djaq…" She knelt before him. "Djaq?" she said aloud this time and leaned closer to touch Djaq's soft cheek. Djaq stayed quiet. "Djaq!" Safiyya shouted at him the way she used to shout when they were children. Her voice even sounded a bit like 12-year-old.

Safiyya moved her trembling hand to Djaq's neck and tried to feel his heartbeat, but nothing was to be felt. She gasped and bit her lower lip, some new tears in her eyes. She looked at the knife in her hand and wiped it on her tunic. Then she put the blade under Djaq's nose and kept there for a moment or two. Djaq wasn't breathing. His eyes were closed and his face clean of the blood, so that he looked like he was only sleeping. Safiyya looked at his peaceful face.

The first time of her life Safiyya realized how beautiful he was. He was like an angel. Safiyya turned his unmoving body to his back and caressed his smooth hair with her fingers. Djaq's scalp and skull were broken, but the blood hadn't marred his face at all. Safiyya rose to sit on her knees and wiped her tears away. She was not supposed to cry now, because she knew this was nothing but the will of Allah. If nothing else.

Safiyya tried to collect her thoughts in one form. Djaq was dead. Jonathan was dead. Safiyya realized then that door was still open. She rushed immediately over and closed it. She didn't want anyone to by and see what happened.

What would she do next though? What was she able to do next? She glanced at Djaq, who had somehow got himself out of the cell. Safiyya smiled a bit – she had known Djaq would make sooner or later out, how he could get out. She had been looking at Djaq for a moment. Her eyebrows set bit, when she felt suddenly different. She wasn't afraid any more. She wasn't confused any more. She knew exactly, what she was going to do. And she knew also, that she had no choice.

* * *

-end of the chapter-

There. She got her revenge. Happy now?


	6. The drift?

_Vi har väl inga hemligheter kvar,  
men det är så jävla fegt att ge sig av,  
bohemerna, poeterna är svin,  
och "On the Road" den fånigaste skiten jag har läst,  
för hjältor och hjältinnor stannar kvar,  
med ryggen upp mot väggen,  
bara hud mot vassa eggen,  
och dom rivs och slår och bits  
för sina liv eller nån annans,  
dom får ingen belöning men dom kräver ingenting,  
dom bara gör biter ihop och håller käften..._

_Älskling, det vi mest av allt vill ha  
är någonting som aldrig kan bli vårt,  
November är en mur av våt betong,  
där en löjlig dröm om flykt föds för att krascha och sen dö,  
men hjältor och hjältinnor stannar kvar,  
dom spottar hårt mot vinden  
och dom värmer våra händer  
så vi inte tappar taget om den kärlek vi har rätt till,  
dom vågar tro och hoppas på att nån där uppe ser oss,  
nån som hellre vill förlåta än fördöma oss..._

_... för nåt vi inte visste att vi gjort._

kent, "På drift?"

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**THE DRIFT** – Chapter 6: **The drift?**

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First Safiyya peeled the blanket from the bed, and took the white sheet from the bottom. It was big enough. She turned around to her brother and knelt on the floor by him. She moved him slightly to better position and then started to undress him. Her hands weren't trembling anymore. First she took off his vest and shirt. For a moment she let her eyes study his bruised chest with many, many different sized scars. Safiyya remembered every single time she had had Djaq lying on the table in front of her in the field hospital. Every time she had feared that this would be the last time, now he was dead for sure.

But Djaq was strong and every time Safiyya's fear was all in vain. Every time Djaq had walked out of the field hospital on his own feet, side by side with his friends, on their way back to the front. Safiyya sighed and set the vest and the shirt aside. She also took off the small leather strings from Djaq's wrists and arms. She didn't know their purpose, but she had heard that those bands had something to do with one's rank in the army. They had some vague symbols in them but Safiyya didn't recognize them.

After she had all Djaq's clothes off, she wrapped his body inside the white sheet. She even found some strap from the drawer and used it to make Djaq look like a bundle. She tightened one strap right to his neck, but left his head unwrapped. She did all that on the floor and when she was done, she rose Djaq's body to her arms and laid him on the bed, waiting. She sighed deep and rubbed her forehead. Her eyes wandered to the stack of Djaq's clothes. She gazed at them for a moment, and then started slowly to undress herself.

Ten minutes later Safiyya tightened Djaq's belt to hang loosely on her hip. She turned and released her tall plait from under the shirt. When she turned again, the plait touched gently her waist. She stepped in front of the mirror and looked herself in the eye. One of her hands came up to pull her head scarf off. Djaq hadn't worn a head scarf. Safiyya wasn't going to wear it either. She looked her breasts that pointed slightly up.

The shirt was a bit too large for her, but there still was an empty valley between her nipples. She tried to press them against her chest, but that only made them show clearer. Safiyya shook her head and sighed in a frustrated way. But when she pulled the vest over her shoulders, she saw that it covered the two round curves quite well, when she only let it hang over them. The vest was good also because it softened the difference between her hips and waist. Her waist didn't look so thin and her hips didn't look so wide. She looked slightly stockier than she really was, but that was the smallest of her problems. She had to do something to her hair. She took Djaq's knife and gazed at it for a moment.

Was she serious? She looked again at her mirror image and buried her fingers in her soft, black, long hair. She pulled her plait over her shoulder to hang against her chest, between her breasts. When she saw it there, she realized that if she could, she would cut her breasts off as well. But that was the limit – she was not going to cut off anything unnecessary. But her plait was absolutely too much. She sighed and bit her teeth together, before she raised the knife.

When she was about to slash, she stopped suddenly. If someone found black hair from the carpet, her secret would be out. She thought for a moment and then set the knife on the floor. She took the mirror off the wall and placed it on the floor too, but leaned it against the wall to keep it up.

She saw her tunic and picked it up. Her tunic would be perfect cover to the carpet and that was why she laid it down. Then she knelt on the floor and leaned her head closer to the mirror. She gulped, but didn't stop this time when the knife touched her hair. One gash cut her plait off from her nape. It made a scrunching noise and it almost hurt Safiyya.

The plait fell on the tunic's soft material and stayed there, totally lifeless. Safiyya gasped, but when she saw herself on the mirror, her eyes widened. She touched the back of her head and stared herself with horrified eyes. What did she just do?! First it felt unreal, but when she shook her head, trying to sway her plait, she realized that the weight was gone. Safiyya sighed and told herself to get a grip. She knew she would get used to the short hair sooner or later. Meanwhile, she had other things to do. Her hair was still too long and she had to cut off a lot more before she looked even a bit of her brother. Her face was badly bruised, but in other ways she and Djaq looked very alike. They were nearly identical. Especially now, when Safiyya saw herself wearing Djaq's clothes and hair style, she realized how badly they reminded each other. Even when Safiyya's face was more or less violet.

Safiyya sighed once more, before turning to Djaq's side. She couldn't perform an official funeral for him, because she was a woman and that was a very univocal order. But she had already undressed him and seen him naked. She had already broken the rules. Would it matter if she broke them a bit more?

She took a solid position to stand on the carpet, her feet slightly apart and her spine straight, just like Djaq had been used to stand. She didn't lower her head or kneel. She read a fast prayer to her brother and prayed also for that Allah would forgive her for doing this, for breaking the law.

She knew she had no reason to be forgiven, but she prayed for forgiveness anyway. Then she went to the door and opened it. She stepped back to Djaq and lifted him in her arms. Djaq was quite heavy, but for some reason it wasn't difficult for Safiyya to carry him. Safiyya left the door open and walked down the corridor all the way to the deck.

There were some lonely torches that gave light. Safiyya carried Djaq to the stern of the ship and lifted him to sit on the rail. Djaq's limbs were growing stiff, but for now it was possible for Safiyya to make him sit on the rail, facing herself. Safiyya held him under his arms to keep him up. She looked at Djaq's closed eyes. Some new tears came to her eyes and she let them flow.

She felt like she was totally alone in the world now. She and Djaq had suffered more than they were supposed to. Safiyya's forehead made contact with Djaq's forehead and she closed her eyes tightly. Djaq had abandoned her. Djaq was famous for not leaving his mates to die on the battlefield. Very often he had run into the field hospital, carrying badly wounded soldiers on his back. Sometimes he was even wounded himself too, but he carried others anyway, if they weren't able to walk on their own.

Safiyya felt like she needed someone to carry her. She wanted to be carried on someone's back. She wanted someone to wrap his arms around her and tell her that everything was going to be fine. Safiyya tried to tell herself that, but she didn't believe it. There she was, sobbing and crying, alone with her brother's dead body in the darkness. She had never been this alone before. But was she really alone? The deck was empty for sure, but… Why did she have this strange feeling? The feeling of – not to be alone? Safiyya opened her eyes.

Djaq.

What would he do, if he saw her right now? What would he say? Safiyya stopped sobbing and her eyebrows set. Djaq wouldn't want her to cry like this. Djaq had known Safiyya was not a coward. Djaq was not a coward. Djaq was a soldier. Safiyya was a soldier now.

Safiyya was Djaq now.

She took half of a step back and glanced at Djaq the last time. Then she let him fall off the rail. His figure faded away and Safiyya didn't see it anymore. She straightened her back and pressed her hands in fists. She lifted her head and let the wind dry her tears away. She was still alone, but she wasn't the same as earlier. She didn't feel like before. She breathed the sea air deep.

Then she turned on her heels and ran back to Jonathan's cabin. On the table she saw Jonathan's mashed head. It really did look like it wasn't in one piece anymore. The skull was so badly broken and so small pieces that Safiyya didn't know how to move his body without making a terrible mess. But she decided to think of it later. Her heart was beating fiercely, when she collected her clothes. Her hair was still on the tunic too and she had to be careful, when she picked each corner of the tunic in her hand and made a small bag, which contained the hair and the plait. She took everything, which had been hers, and ran back to the deck. She almost felt good seeing her past fly above the water before it drowned itself. Just like the sun had done every evening in Acre.

Finally, when everything was gone, Safiyya calmed down a bit. Only one thing was left. That very thing was still lying on the cabin's desk, hanging his bloody head over the backrest of the chair. Safiyya sighed. She knew she couldn't leave Jonathan that way. But she didn't want to throw him into the sea, because it would be too close to Djaq's grave. Djaq hadn't told her, how he managed to escape from the jail, but when Safiyya thought logically, she realized that there had to be an empty space on the bottom of the ship. In fact she had thought that already, when she had first time visited the ship with Jonathan.

There, right under the lowest floor, would be a perfect place to hide a body. But first Safiyya had to cover his crushed head somehow. Otherwise she would drop his parts here and there and that wouldn't be suitable. Though, she thought, it would be fun to see the crew's face when they would find pieces of skull from the corridors.

After searching for a while she decided to put Jonathan's head into the pillowcase and wrap it in the comforter. Safiyya couldn't help but smile, when she saw the mummy she had created. She left Jonathan on the bed and took Djaq's knife from the desk where she had placed it. It was a good and sharp knife with quite a short blade.

In its handgrip there was an engraving of Djaq's first name in Arabic letters. The tracks were filled with dried blood, which made them show better. Safiyya smirked and put the knife in its sheath. Then she picked Jonathan up and carried him through the ship to the bow, passed the storage room and entered the striped darkness. When she found the hatch, she smiled happily and let Jonathan fall there, before following herself. She had left the door of Jonathan's cabin open, but the hatch she closed.

Safiyya left Jonathan to the bow. It didn't take a long time for her to find the spiral staircase and after arriving to the corridor of the cells, she found fast out how Djaq had got himself out of the jail. She couldn't help but smile deeply. She knew her brother too well. Safiyya had wider hips than Djaq and for a moment she thought that she was stuck in the window, but in the end she got herself inside the cell. She wasn't completely sure why she came here, rather than try and stay free. She didn't know either, why she was smiling while placing the iron bars back to their places in the window.

He will never hit me again, she thought when she was about to fall asleep. Never.

* * *

-end of the chapter-


	7. A round piece of glass

Thank you for reviewing, caroline, but keep in your mind that this is only a fic. I mean - my stupid, silly, naughty, teenage brains made this up. This is just one possibility how Safiyya could've ended up the way she did. To be honest, I don't think the people of BBC would've liked to give this kind of story for Safiyya's character. But that's not my problem.

**THE DRIFT** – Chapter 7: **A round piece of glass**

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The crew never found Jonathan's body. The scene in the cabin was quite stunning – there was blood everywhere, but no sign of any kind of body. Some of the men claimed that the Saracen woman had used some kind of black magic simply because she had disappeared as well. There were some ropes on the floor which meant that she had somehow cut herself free. They said she had probably taken Jonathan with her; or then maybe drowned him in the sea. Whatever the case, the crew decided to lock that cabin up, and never enter it again. To be sure, they even fastened the door shut with some nails.

Safiyya had no idea how long she had slept, but when she finally woke, she was freezing. The floor was hard and uncomfortable, and the muscles in her neck felt slightly sore since she had been sleeping on her side and her head hadn't had anything to lean against. Safiyya rose to sit and blinked her eyes couple of times. She knew it was day, but in the cell there was still as dark as it had been before. She turned her head to the corner of the cell and took Djaq's candle and couple of stones. The candle was quite small already, but Safiyya lit it anyway. She stared at the flame and did nothing else.

The candle burned slowly, until the flame was small and green. Safiyya face stayed calm even as the candle died. When the darkness surrounded her again, it felt like she was not completely there, rather just a part of it. She sat there like a statue, hardly even breathing. She didn't seem alive, but in fact, she had never been this much alive before.

---

When the crew decided that the time would be good for feeding their prisoners, they had another matter to wonder. Why couldn't they open the door? After frustrated groans and three hours of work they had no choice but remove the lock system by sawing through the wood. That was a fast solution and soon they got the door out of the way.

Djaq had sabotaged the lock earlier when he had tried to open it, but the iron string was wedged so far in that the crew didn't even find out what had been inside the lock. It was a mystery and with the recent events on the ship the crew decided to leave it that way.

Because the doors opened into the cell the men didn't notice what had happened to the iron bars of Djaq's cell. When Safiyya heard voices from the first door, she put her hands fast behind her back. When a guard opened her door, she only gazed at him darkly under her eyebrows.

"This one is doing fine", he said to someone behind him. "Feed the others first."

"Why?" someone asked him.

The guard snorted. "Because if they starve, they die, idiot! We're not paid for dead bodies, are we?" Safiyya blinked her eyes. That man had a point there.

The door was slammed closed. Safiyya licked her lips, leaned back against the wall and looked up to the ceiling. She wasn't very hungry to be honest. She didn't mind at all that the other prisoners were fed before her.

In fact she wished that the men would leave as soon as possible. She just wanted to be alone. She heard some voices from the other end of the corridor and someone cried out. Safiyya heard that someone was being kicked to a corner.

"What the hell are you doing?! Stop that!" the same guard that had told the others not to feed Safiyya just yet was shouting. "What did I just say to you?! What?! If you kill one of them, you'll be traded instead of him!"

Another answered him "You're not serious!" but the cries disappeared.

"What about that one there?" asked someone, who hadn't spoken before. He surely meant Safiyya.

"What's left? Well, give him those apples. He's not as thin as these. It'll do." Steps came closer and when they passed Safiyya's cell, some green apples shot through the bars. They hit Safiyya's bruised forehead and it hurt.

"Shouldn't we untie him?"

"He punched me last time I saw him untied! No, let him deal with it."

Safiyya laughed silently to herself and waited patiently, until all the men were gone. The last man looked at the doorframes suspiciously. "What about the door?" Safiyya kept smiling to herself.

"It's alright. It's good for them to get some fresh air. Those locks will hold them for sure, believe me. My cousin made them actually…" The last two of them walked away, chatting about his cousin.

Safiyya picked an apple from the floor and turned it in her hand before placing it back where she taken it. She planned to eat it a bit later maybe. She collected all the apples in one stack and yawned sweetly. She changed her position a bit and realized suddenly that she had been sitting on something. She rose to kneel and pulled something from under her thigh. She stared at it with wide eyes.

Djaq! That idiot! Safiyya shook her head. Djaq had always been like that – leaving his things here and there and then come to Safiyya and ask where this was or where that was. Safiyya had told him many times to take care of his belongings and Djaq had many times promised to clean up his act.

But he never had. Safiyya was holding a black and thin pendant in her hands that was about ten centimeters long. The pendant reminded her very much of a blackened okra pod. It was fastened to a chain and the chain was also black and quite long. Safiyya carefully twisted the cap off and placed it on the floor where she would find it.

With very calm fingers she took a small glass vial from inside. She sighed when seeing that the glass hadn't been crushed or anything. She put it back inside and fastened the cap back to its place. Then she put the chain around her neck and hid the pendant under her shirt.

* * *

Days passed. Now that Safiyya was aware what time it was, it was easier to her to sleep at night and be awake during the day. She hadn't much to do and she was usually very bored since there was nothing to do but sleep.

One night though, she removed the iron bars and pulled herself through the small window. It took some strength and patience, but she had nothing else to do and wanted to pass some of her time. On the deck there was one man keeping guard for the night, but he was sleeping and Safiyya passed him without any warning voices.

She could've gone to the kitchen to steal some food, but she went to relieve herself instead. There were very dirty chamber pots in the cell, and they smelt quite horrendous. But that was the only; from then on she decided to stay inside her own cell and be as undetected as possible. She slept quite a lot and every time someone came down to feed them or check up, she put her hands behind her back. When she went to sleep, she even tied her hands together with a rope using the stray bits she found on the floor. It was difficult, but something she had to do in case the guard came when she was asleep.

One day when Safiyya was sound asleep, two guards came downstairs. Safiyya woke to the noise and crawled fast to her feet. One of the guards was opening her door. "Hello, pretty boy", he said to Safiyya. "Welcome to England."

Safiyya's eyes widened. "_What?_" Her voice was slightly hoarse, because she hadn't used it for a long time.

The guard stepped inside. He was the one who had shouted at the other man to stop beating the prisoners that one night. "C'mon then. Don't be shy."

Safiyya walked towards him, hoping the man wouldn't notice that she was a woman. Safiyya wouldn't mind to be called pretty boy. She didn't care what she was called as long as they wouldn't discover her secret. That was the only thing that did matter.

On the corridor Safiyya looked around and saw that the guards were freeing other prisoners too. Safiyya saw a couple of other Saracens in the corridor. One of them, a thin young man, looked her in the eye, but had to turn away when one of the guards hit him in the face. Safiyya was about to run and help him, but the other man grabbed her arm before she got far.

They climbed to the deck. When Safiyya saw the coast far ahead she felt strange. She hadn't known what England was like. She had never thought she would travel there in any way. But here she was, standing on the deck of the ship, facing the bow and the land that loomed far ahead. It felt as thought it wasn't coming closer at all.

Safiyya startled when someone was pushed beside her nearly tripping on her. Safiyya looked and saw about forty-year-old man with dirty, white clothes and a head-scarf. The man glared her sternly. Safiyya only nodded shyly to him.

It was a long while before the ship made it to land. But when it finally was safely tied up to the dock, Safiyya and the others were led off the ship. Safiyya didn't even try to resist, because she was too busy looking around. The air was cold and humid. The sky was white. There were no clouds, or perhaps the whole sky was one, big cloud. There were no shadows at all, light chasing them all away.

It was in the middle of June, but the weather could've been from September. The port was quite small, and in fact it wasn't a port at all. It was only a long dock which had been built there and it led to the side of a road. The road followed the shore and was quite wide. At least two carriages would be able to pass each other at the same time there.

On the other side of the road was the sea, but on the other side there was a forest. Safiyya had heard about forests, but she had never seen one. Jonathan had told her that they were wide areas with many tall trees in them. Safiyya hadn't known that trees could be that green. Now she was staring at the black alders that dangled their branches over the road.

The dock felt strange under Safiyya's feet. The wood was old and greyish and there were some planks missing here and there. She looked over her shoulder to make sure the others were following, because she was walking ahead with one guard who held her rope.

"They're coming, don't be afraid."

Safiyya saw that the others weren't as well off as her. The old man had to hold on to a younger man's shoulder when he walked. Safiyya had walked without watching her feet and stepped in an empty space where there should've been a plank but there wasn't. Her foot was too big to go through the hole, but she lost her balance anyway. She hadn't got her hands to soften the blow, so she fell on her knees instead and her face almost touched the dock. Her foot hurt slightly and she groaned quietly.

"Get up, and watch your step!" the guard told her and forced her back to her feet.

There was a horse carriage near the dock and after Safiyya and the other prisoners were taken to the dry ground, they were led behind the horses and into the carriage. The carriage was made for pigs or sheep; there were bars that would keep them inside. But the space was big enough to transport people as well. All the Saracen prisoners were forced inside and the back was closed with a heavy, black rope. The men who had done all that stood around the carriage and talked to each other.

"Shouldn't Brooker already be here?"

"I was told he would be. But I don't see him."

"I want to get rid of these as soon as possible." He shuffled nervously and glanced at the carriage's insides with a strange look. "I mean – who knows, what kind of pagan magic…"

"Oh, give me strength! You seriously believe in those stories?"

Safiyya had been listening with a half of her ear. She had taken the knife in her hand and cut her own hands free again. She had tried to release the other Saracens, who had been put inside the same small cage, but they were chained instead and Safiyya couldn't do anything with the heavy metal. Not all of them here were Saracens; there were also couple of Africans, whose skin was slightly darker than hers.

"Shh", Safiyya quieted to the ones who had tried to ask something from her. "_I'll find a way out of here._"

"_What's your name?_" asked a young man near her, who had some dried blood in his clothes.

Safiyya looked at him with a calm face. "Djaq", she said. After a short silence she went on. "_We're in this together. You have to trust me. Now, please let me through._" Everyone dodged, when Safiyya crawled to the back of the carriage, right where the tied hatch was. The ropes were very thick bound tightly, making Safiyya's knife too small and dull to cut through it.

The rope itself had a link in both ends and they were fastened together with a padlock. First Safiyya touched the pendant around her neck, but then decided not to waste the liquid inside it. She had a feeling that the English didn't know how to make it. But now that Safiyya had her hands free, she could put them through the bars and out of the cage.

This gave her an idea, put her hand on her belt and opened the small pocket that had been fastened there. Inside the pocket there was a round piece of glass. Safiyya had seen how Djaq used it before and this would be a perfect time to prove its magic power. Now all she had to do was the same thing Djaq used to.

She turned to the sky when the sun disappeared behind a white cloud. Some blank shadows came under the wagon. She bit her lip. This wasn't going to work. Perhaps the sun didn't shine hotly enough here. But she had to try. She held the piece of glass in the air and let the sun shine straight through it, to the rope, which was now between her arms.

At first it didn't work, because Safiyya couldn't keep her eyes open. She couldn't believe that the sun was shining so brightly, even when it was hardly to be seen. She glanced at the rope and saw the shadow of the glass there. In the middle of the shadow there was a round, light spot.

When Safiyya moved the glass slowly towards herself, the round light spot in the middle became smaller and whiter. When it was the smallest Safiyya could make it, Safiyya started to smell the smoke. The rope had started to smoke a little. A smile covered Safiyya's face, when she kept the glass still and saw how the wind blew the blue smoke inside the carriage. The others looked over Safiyya's shoulders interested looks on their faces.

Finally the first flame came. Safiyya blew some oxygen for it, but she blew too passionately and the flame withered out. She had to light it another time, but this time she waited until the flame was big enough to manage. Safiyya realized that the wind blew from the sea well enough, so there was no need for her to. She had to crawl further away when the fire grew fast and soon the whole rope was on fire. It seemed to be strengthened with tar, and that was also why it burned quite happily.

Safiyya took her knife now and used it as a saw when cutting the rope off between the flames. Soon after the rope was cut it fell on the ground to smother there. Safiyya smiled at the piece of glass and pressed a light kiss on it. They were a good team. Then she glanced behind her back, to the other prisoners, who had forgotten how to speak.

Safiyya turned back to the door, looked around herself to make sure none of the crusaders were watching and then pushed it open as quietly and carefully as she could. Unfortunately the hinges were dry and worn. Safiyya hadn't paused to think of that part at all and now she scared to death when she heard the scream the door made.

The men noticed immediately, what Safiyya had been doing. "Hey, what's going on there?!"

They ran behind the carriage end. One of the men saw the smothering lock on the ground. He stepped closer and tugged the hatch open now that Safiyya had unlocked it.

"You!" he shouted and grabbed Safiyya's arm. He pulled her out of the carriage and Safiyya fell on her knees on the ground. "Of course!" The same man stepped near her and Safiyya was about to defend herself, but the man only grabbed the knife from her belt and showed it to others. "How did he get this?!"

"I don't care! I'm more interested in how he opened the lock!" some of his mates shouted back at him. "How did he make the fire?!"

"I told you! Pagan magic!"

"Oh, shut up!" said the man, who had taken Safiyya out of the cell earlier. He turned to talk to the man, who had tugged Safiyya out of the carriage. "Take all he has. And theirs too", he said and pointed the other men inside the wagon. "We can't risk anything. If they escape, we're in trouble."

The others nodded to him quietly.

Safiyya spitted to the ground.

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-end of the chapter-


	8. Turk flu

This final chapter is up now. Thanks for reading. And unfortunately no, there'll be no other male hero than Djaq. One is enough.

**THE DRIFT** – Chapter 8: **Turk flu**

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The man who was supposed to buy the Saracen slaves finally arrived. He was about fifty years old, a fat and ugly man whose name was Brooker. Safiyya looked at him through the bars. The men hadn't tied her up again, but they had taken everything that could be taken from her clothes. The pendant had also taken from her. Safiyya stared sternly when one of the men gave Brooker the small sack, which contained her belongings, including the small, round glass with leather liners. Brooker paid the men and had a look at his merchandise. Safiyya gazed him through the bars with cold eyes.

"Cover it", Brooker ordered one of the guards he had brought with him. "We don't need any attention."

"Aye and they don't need any more sun either!" The guards laughed while pulling a large, dirty cover over the cage. Safiyya crossed her arms on her chest and took a better position to sit on the wooden floor.

"What's in this barrel?" some of the guards asked. He set the barrel on the ground near Safiyya's corner. "Quite heavy… What's inside there?"

"That's none of your business!" Brooker shot at him. "Just put it there!"

"Alright, alright! Calm down…!"

Safiyya got too curious to sulk. She leaned forward and rose the tarpaulin to see better. There were two guards and Brooker who had been having a fierce conversation about the small barrel on the ground. Safiyya had seen the barrel earlier on the ship. She had seen those kinds of barrels back home, but she wasn't quite sure where. She sat back down to think and set her eyebrows slightly.

"_They're not going to kill us._" An African man had a strange accent of Arabic. He looked at one of the Saracen men and then turned to Safiyya. "_Why?_"

Safiyya shook her head and shrugged, but the man, who had earlier asked her name, spoke up. "_Didn't you see? That fat man just bought us! We're being traded!"_

"_Took your time to notice_", an older man from the other corner said to him. His face looked like a raisin and he was very thin. Safiyya had no idea how he had survived all the way to England. His clothes were too large for him and his head scarf was the only thing left which wasn't too large for him after he had lost weight. "_They already killed my sons, and now they're taking me."_

"_My wife was killed too_", said the African, who had spoken first. He turned his head to Safiyya and blinked. "_Didn't you have a sister?_"

Safiyya nodded. "Safiyya. _But… She was killed too._"

"_I think I heard you, when she was brought down there_", said one of the Saracens who hadn't said anything yet. "_Was she killed there, aboard?_"

Safiyya sighed and gulped silently. "_Uh, I think so. We – we tried to escape, when we still were in _Acre_, but… we got caught. I was brought back to the cell and _Safiyya_… one of the men took her in his cabin. That's all I know."_

"_I think I saw candle light_", the African said. "_Was it you?_"

Safiyya nodded. "_I found it. Someone had left the stones there._"

"_How did you get out of the cell?_"

Brooker and the guards had finished their preparation and the wagon started to move forward. Safiyya told the others about how Djaq had burned the wood around the bars and released himself from the cell that way. She didn't tell anything about Jonathan's and Safiyya's love story; that was the past she had left behind. She had said Safiyya was dead. Because that was the truth. There was no place for Safiyya in this world anymore. But in fact she wasn't sorry for herself at all. She had started a new life. She was ready for anything that would come to her way. Nothing was going to stop her. Nothing was going to hold her from living her life.

* * *

It was too light to be night. Safiyya was nervous, because the sun should've set long time ago. She had said to the others that they would wait for the sunset and then act. But now she was biting both her lips and nails with the others and keeping her eyes on the stubborn sun, who made the sky almost white. It didn't remind Safiyya the sunset she had seen in Acre. White nights… Well, people were quite white also.

When it had started to get darker, Brooker and his guards had stopped to a small village to stay there the night. Brooker had gone to the inn, but two of his guards had stayed with the carriage and the horses. They had fed the horses and taken the tacks off. They would carry on tomorrow morning. Safiyya had been busy, but she had made an amazing plan to escape. And now when there were two guards, it could even work.

"_We cannot wait for the sunset_, Djaq", the African whispered to her. Safiyya nodded.

She waited patiently until the other guard had gone to the inn, but was going to be back in a few minutes. Then she moved the curtain. She stared at the guard, who was standing there, couple of meters from her. "Uh, I'm terribly sorry."

The guard turned his head and looked surprisingly at her. "You speak English?"

Safiyya sighed deep and shook her head. The young guard walked slowly closer. "I should've known this. I should've warned you. And now it's too late."

"What're you talkin' about?"

Safiyya raised her gaze to him. "You've had it." When the young man still looked like he didn't understand, Safiyya went on. "The Turk flu. You haven't heard of it?"

"The Turk flu?" the guard asked and raised his other eyebrow. "What's that?"

Safiyya smiled sadly. "You will never know. You'll die soon."

"W-what?!" the guard touched his face and looked horrified. "W-what are you t-talking about?"

"I could cure you", Safiyya said. "But you must let me out of here."

For a moment the guard only stared at her, but then he shook his head. "No, no… I can't do that. You're just tryin' to…!" He never finished his sentence, because Safiyya grabbed his hair from behind and before the man even had time to shout in pain, Safiyya had already banged his forehead hard against the bars of the cage. The man lost consciousness and was about to fall down, but Safiyya wound her arms quickly around his chest and kept him up against the bars.

"_C'mon, help me! Hold him!_" she ordered and couple of Saracen men came closer to keep the guard up.

"_What're you up to?_" the old man asked from the corner. Safiyya hadn't time for looking him, but she answered anyway.

"_We can't make him bleed, but I have a great story waiting to be told_", she said. Then she did something which made the last pieces of woman disappear from her appearance. She loosened some salivia from her throat, nose and mouth, pressed her lips against the guard's nostrils and forced all her spit inside his nose, using her tongue. She did it couple of times and let the other prisoners stare at her during the act.

"_Now, let him go_", she told, when she was finished. The others let the man fall down. Safiyya made sure his face was to be seen. "_And now, we'll wait for the other one._"

"_Why did you do that?_" someone asked her.

"_You'll see_." It didn't take long time for the other guard to arrive. First he saw his mate lying on the ground. He came to him and was about to kneel by him, but Safiyya rose her hand to him. "Don't come closer, if you don't want the infection!"

The guard stared at Safiyya. "You speak English?"

Safiyya rolled her eyes. "The Turk flu, idiot!"

"What?" the man asked with a horrified sound in his voice and backed up couple of steps. "What's Turk flu? What's that…?" he pointed to his mate. "His nose?"

Safiyya bit her lip. "Oh, I'm afraid it's his – brains. But I can cure him!" she added fast when the guard backed up more. "If you only let me out of here!"

The guard shook his head. "I'm not going to come any closer than this! He's dead anyway!"

"What's this shouting for?" A local, young crofter had walked closer to the strange wagon and heard the other guard, who was still on his feet. He glanced the young man lying on the ground and raised his other eyebrow. "What's wrong with him?"

"It's the Turk flu!" the guard shouted at him with shrill voice full of fear. "Those Saracen evils brought it here and now we're all going to die!"

Safiyya snorted. This plan was everything but successful. No one was going to let them out of the cage. Now no one wasn't even going to come near them. Safiyya turned to the others and sighed deep. "_Well, you can't always win._"

---

Poor Brooker couldn't stay at the inn, because now when the village had heard about the Turk flu, everyone wanted him to leave as soon as possible. Safiyya looked through the curtain, how the fields slowly changed to dark forest. Some of her colleagues fell asleep, but she stayed half awake and let her head rest against the nearest bar.

It was a very rocky road and the rocks made the wagon sway and jump now and then. Soon Safiyya gave in and raised her head because the bar had bruised her temple while she had leaned against it.

Why weren't these roads taken care of? Why were the roots of the trees so damn passionately reaching the air and peeking themselves out of the ground? Couldn't anyone just dig all the rocks out of the road? Safiyya was so tired that she didn't even know if she was asleep or not. The ship had been quite stable.

Safiyya closed her eyes and let her head sway with the wagon's fast moves and trembles. Maybe that was what she was supposed to do in the first place. Maybe she was nothing but a small chip in the wide river. Maybe she was supposed to sway and bend, like hay in the wind. But never give in or break down. Safiyya pressed her other hand in fist and promised herself that someday she would be free again. Someday she would get the value of her life back.

Right now there was only one road to follow, and it was forward. Safiyya didn't know what there was, mostly because the wall was in her way but even if it hadn't been, she could've only guessed.

* * *

-fin-

* * *

Thanks for reading.

**YLE TV2** / 10. toukokuuta 2009 lähtien n. klo 19:15 **ROBIN HOOD** BBC (2. tuotantokausi)


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